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Harry woke and realized that it was Monday. He didn’t have to work today and Liu-sensei was out of town today so he didn’t have a class. He decided to do his meditation and Tai Chi on his own, instead of bunking off. The meditation was easy, all he did was sit cross legged on his bed and spend the next hour clearing his mind. He filled it with a sheet of flames and concentrated on that.

When he was done with his meditations, he took a quick shower and dressed in sweat pants, sweat shirt and trainers.

When he entered the kitchen, Johnny was there.

"Morning. You’re up bright and early." Johnny handed Harry a cup of tea and plopped a bit gracelessly into a chair.

"Yeah. I’m used to being up early and I can’t quite break the habit, especially now that I’m well. I meditated already. Remember Liu-sensei is out of town for the next three days. I’m bored already and it’s too early to do too much bumping around. Frankie is still asleep, right?"

"Yeah, and he’ll be really bitchy if we wake him. You want to go jogging with me?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Sure. I think that’s a good idea. I need more endurance, jogging sounds like a good way to get it. Besides, I think I’d like it."

Johnny smiled at Harry. He was a good kid, always ready to help in any way or try any new experience. "Fine. Let’s go then."

Johnny led Harry on a short jog through the neighborhood, a bit surprised to find that he kept up fairly well.

"I thought you said you needed more endurance. You seem to be able to keep up well enough."

Harry swiped his sleeve over a sweaty forehead and replied between pants. "Not really. I managed to keep up but I feel like I’m about to pass out. That’s not good. I’d like to be able to keep up with you without panting. I want to dance, I think, and I’m not going to be able to if I don’t have more ... wind. You know?"

"I do. As to dancing. I think you need to stick to tending bar for a while longer. I can tell that you’re not really comfortable as a table."

Harry grinned. His training wasn’t completed yet. He still felt really self conscious.

"Not really. I still feel ... funny. Not embarrassed so much as ... awkward."

"Take your time. If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to do it. Don’t ever let us talk you into doing something you’re really not comfortable with. We want you to be happy with us. We’d like it if you could see your way to working in the back. We both think you’d really make some good money and we want you to build up a nice savings. But if you don’t feel like it’s right for you, don’t do it. Got me?"

Harry gave Johnny a long surprised look. "Really? I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable doing more than being a table but I’ll try. Thanks."

"You’re welcome. Come on, one more round around the block then we’ll go back to the apartment and have breakfast. Then maybe you could do some of your, what do you call it? Kata?"

"Yeah, kata. But there’s not enough room in the apartment, I’ll knock something over. It’s ok. I’ll go to the club a bit early and use the backstage, there’s plenty of room there."

Johnny nodded and started for the apartment at a slow cool off jog. "I’ll give you a key to the back door and you can go after breakfast, if you like. The cleaning crew will be there but that’s all. You really need to work on that problem you have with people looking at you. That’s the main problem with being a table. And, if you really want to dance, you’ll have to get used to people staring at you."

"I know. It’s just that, usually, people looking at me means I’m in trouble ... again. I’ll just have to get used to it. Maybe having people look at me will make me less self-conscious? Couldn’t make me worse. Could it?"

"Probably. No one in the club would call you up on the carpet. They don’t have the authority, only Frankie and I do. And we won’t, unless you really screw up. Which you won’t. You’re too good a kid. Now, I’m ready for breakfast. I’ll wake Frankie while you start tea. OK?"

Harry slipped in the door that Johnny held open for him and nodded on his way to the kitchen.

"I’ll start the bangers, shall I?"

Johnny just grimaced. Harry’s apatite was, frankly, astonishing. He ate anything and everything. It made it easy to feed him, but it was a bit worrisome. Johnny had to wonder how often Harry had gone hungry.

He dismissed the thought and addressed himself to waking his lover.

It didn’t take long for Frankie to get completely awake and announce that he was hungry. He slipped on his robe and wandered into the kitchen, sniffing the aromas from Harry’s efforts appreciatively.

"Mmmmm. Smells really good." Frankie accepted a plate. "Strawberry jam?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sorry, we ate the last yesterday. I’ll put it on the list in a sec. Toast, jelly, tea. There, it’s all ready. Eat up."

All three of them tucked into their plates and polished them in record time. Harry decided to just lay about the apartment for the rest of the morning and play his games. Frankie wandered off to do something in his office and Johnny announced that, because they were complete prats, he was going grocery shopping. Frankie just laughed, Harry stuck his nose in his game.

An hour later he was growling in frustration.

"What’s wrong?" Frankie leaned against the door frame, twisting a curl around his finger.

"I keep losing. I’ve died, like, eight times. And every time I have to go back to the last inn and start all over again."

"Let me see." Harry just handed over the game and let Frankie fiddle with it. "Ha! I see. You’re not practicing proper conservation of resources. You need to keep a better check on your life points and gold." Frankie went on to explain to Harry how to manage his combat resources in order to finish the level.

"Thanks. I think I’ve got it now. Interesting." Harry went back to his game and Frankie went back to trying to balance his books.

Harry spent the rest of the morning enjoying his game, he even made it to level twelve just before lunch.

Right after lunch Johnny handed over the promised key and told Harry to feel free to use the stage area for his kata anytime he needed to. Harry thanked Johnny and returned to his room, intending to play his game some more. But his school books, piled on his desk in a haphazard way, made him feel guilty. He decided he’d better at least try to read something.

He picked up Arithmancy, Theory and Practice and shuddered. He’d never intended to take it but Dobby had brought the book so he’d decided he should at least look at it, later. He shuffled through the books, trying to decide what to do. He found a book he didn’t remember.

"Hmmm, Darker Than Black. Theories of Dark Magic, With Appropriate Warnings. Don’t remember that one." Harry settled down to read the book with some interest. He looked up three hours later to realize that he had to leave now to do his kata or he’d be in the way of the dancers’ rehearsals. He stuffed his books into the file drawer of the desk and left for the club.

.

Harry let himself into the club with his new key. He looked around at the strange looking place. The lights were up high so the crew could see what they were doing. Harry had never seen the club this bright, it made it look very strange.

He nodded to a couple of people as he made his way to the stage.

Once on the stage he started on his first kata, working his way through the forms quickly. He smiled to himself as he remembered how hard they had seemed when he first started. Now this kata was easy. The next one was harder but he still managed it with a fair amount of skill. His third kata was his most recent one and it was hard. Some of the forms were combinations and Harry wasn’t used to them yet so he took the time to work on each combination separately. He finished on a high note by completing the kata without a mistake.

He was wiping the sweat off his neck and shoulders when he heard a voice.

"Hi! Who are you? Does Frankie or Johnny know you’re here? My name’s Paul, by the way."

Harry turned around to see one of the dancers approaching him from the backstage area. He grinned at Paul.

"Yeah, they both do. I’m Harry, I live with them. I was just practicing my kata as my teacher is away and the dojo is closed. Am I in your way?"

"Naw, not quite ready to rehearse yet. So, kata, what’s that?"

Harry explained what a kata was and demonstrated a bit of one. Paul was suitably impressed and asked Harry to teach him one of the moves. Harry did his best and Paul finally mastered the move. They settled on the edge of the stage to celebrate with bottles of water.

"You did a good job. That was brilliant." Harry was well aware that compliments led to better efforts than scorn so he was always generous with praise.

"Thanks. That move is going to go great in the dance number my friend Joe and I are putting together. Maybe Frankie will let us do it some day."

Harry nodded then sighed, Paul had a tattoo on his thigh. Neither Frankie nor Johnny would approve a dancer with a tattoo like that. The skull looked so much like the Dark Mark that Harry shuddered.

"Yeah. Ugly, isn’t it? I don’t know what I was thinking. And I’ll never get to dance anywhere if I can’t figure out how to cover it up. Someone kick my ass, please."

Harry considered the tattoo with some curiosity. "I’ve never seen a tattoo close up before. Can I touch it?"

Paul shrugged, Harry was a nice guy and wouldn’t make fun, so he wasn’t going to either. "Sure. It doesn’t hurt or anything. It’s just really ugly. I had a ‘fuck the world’ thing for a while. Should have kept my comments to t-shirts, know what I mean?"

Harry nodded, running a finger over the marked flesh. "Hmm. Just ink under the skin? Weird."

"Yeah, it kind of is, really. I’ve heard about ways to get rid of them, including lasers and such. But it’s really expensive. I wish I could get rid of the damn thing, but there you are. I’m broke so I’m stuck."

Harry eyed the thing for a few moments then made a decision. "I think I have something that’ll get rid of it. Let me see, ok?"

"Sure. That’d be wizard. Thanks."

Harry had to snicker softly. He rummaged in his duffel to find a small flat container of cream. It was just a heavy weight hand cream the Liu-sensei made, in an unmarked container. Harry was going to pull a trick on Paul. Not a bad one, just one that would protect him and get Paul’s tattoo off.

"Here. Let me put it on for you. Then you put it on every night until the tattoo fades. Ok?"

"Sure. Thanks. I really hope it works. Granny cures sometimes don’t, you know. But I appreciate the effort."

Harry spread the cream on the tattoo while he murmured the spell that would break up the ink making it fade over about a week’s time. He hoped the spell, which he’d made up on the spot, would work. He figured that he’d find out soon enough.

"Well, thanks. I’ll put in on just like you told me. And in return, I’ll teach you something."

"You don’t have to do that, but thanks. What is it?" Harry grinned at Paul, too many times his kindness was either ignored, or at least went unrewarded by even a thank you.

"It’s a sexy crawl. Guaranteed to get you tips out the wazoo. Most dancers use it. Interested?"

Harry said that he was, so Paul got him on his knees and knelt beside him. "Here’s what you do."

Paul coached Harry in the slinky crawl until he could do it easily, which didn’t take very long.

"Man, you learn quick. Great work. You look good enough to eat doing that." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I better get into the back. It’s about time for me to get ready. You doing table tonight? I was wondering, ‘cause, you know, I’d like a chance at tending bar." Paul grinned in easy camaraderie. "No pressure, mind you."

Harry replied, "No, no pressure. Arse." But he grinned at Paul. He was going to have to make up his mind about this sooner or later and sooner was always better, in his mind. He went to find Johnny to talk to him about moving up to a piece of furniture.

.

Harry tapped on Johnny’s office door and poked his head in. "Hey! You know Paul? He wants to try tending bar. That’ll leave you short a table, right?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, his knees are giving him fits. He can stand, dance, walk around and all that ok, but he’s having real trouble kneeling for very long. We’re starting to have to change him out in an hour. It’s damn inconvenient. You want to change places with him?"

"Yeah, I’ve been thinking about what you said. I think I better just suck it up and see if I’m suited to the job. I also want to try dancing. But I don’t have a clue how to start on that."

"Frankie will work up a routine for you and teach it to you ... next week? I’ll make sure. As to being a table. I repeat, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it. But the tips are really good and the pay level is half again bar tender’s wages. Frankie and I would like to see you with a nice nest egg. We’ll discuss a budget with you in a few days. Ok?"

Harry knew he had no real notion of money management so he nodded. "Great. That’s a good idea. I’d really like an explanation of how to budget a real paycheck. I don’t want to get myself into trouble by bad management. Is there an actual theory?"

"Yes, there actually is. We’ll be glad to explain it all to you. We’ll sit down when we know what your income is going to be and explain everything to you. Now, thought, you need to get into the back and get into your harness. I’ll get Paul to the bar early so he can get an idea of what he’s supposed to do."

Harry grimaced, Waldo had known that Harry was training to be furniture, he just hadn’t expected Harry to move up quiet so quickly. Saturday had been Harry’s first training session, it usually took several so neither Waldo nor Harry had been expecting things to move so quickly. Harry had expected to have at least another week of bar tending before he was ready, but Paul’s bad knees had hurried things along. He grumbled a bit, he’d miss working with Waldo.

.

Harry submitted to being harnessed by Rudolph himself. He even allowed himself to be gagged, although no one had mentioned this and he didn’t like it much.

Rudolph explained, "Now, we don’t use a big gag, but it’s part of the illusion. Here’s a little bell. Hook the ring over one finger. If you need to be removed for any reason or someone touches you, drop the bell. We’ll hear it and be right there."

"Ok, I guess. No one told me about the gag. And you didn’t have me wear one in training. I’m not sure I like this much."

"Don’t sweat it. I’ll keep a special eye on you if I can. But don’t worry. You have your own handler who’ll keep an eye on you. And handlers circulate around the room all the time. Don’t be afraid, we’ll take good care of you. Now ... let’s get you set up, the first rush is about to hit."

Rudolph let Harry take the gag himself, rather than poking it at him. He helped Harry get comfortable then put the table top on his outstretched hands and wished him, "Good tips." before he walked away.

Harry settled himself to be still. He turned his meditative skills to the task. He also used his martial arts training to keep his limbs from cramping, flexing each major muscle group for a few seconds every so often. As he knelt, Harry practiced clearing his mind and creating a curtain of flames, blocking access to his thoughts. Liu-sensei had explained the technique to him. He was startled to feel a hand on his shoulder.

Before Harry could do more than startle a bit one of the handlers was right there. "I’m sorry, sir, please don’t touch the boys."

The man nodded. "I’m sorry too. I know it’s forbidden, but he doesn’t look good. His skin is way too cold and he’s a bit blue around the mouth. How long has he been here?"

The handler shook his head. "Peterson. He’s only been here... ten minutes? This isn’t right. Excuse me, I need to check around. Thank you for your concern."

"That’s ok. Just see to the boy." The customer walked away. The handler signaled another man to make sure the customer got a free drink then went to get Rudolph.

"There’s something wrong. Peterson is way too cold, better come see. Dr. Henderson has some concerns."

Rudolph blinked when he saw Harry. "That’s not Peterson, that’s Potter. Whoever was responsible for the change out, took the wrong person. Get him up and into the back ... now."

A huge man came from the back and just picked Harry up. His tray was handed off to the new table and he was carried to the back without ceremony or fuss.

"Here, Harry, damn it. I’m really sorry. You should have dropped your bell hours ago. You went on at opening and it’s nearly closing. That’s ... six hours." While he talked Rudolph stripped Harry out of his harness while he was still in the other handlers arms. "Gary, you take him right through and get him some tea. Put him in a robe and get him a hot water bottle. I’m going to find out what the hell happened. And," Rudolph turned to Harry. "I’m going to have a little talk with you too. You don’t just take it like that, you let us know you’re in trouble. You’re cold as a fish."

Harry didn’t argue, now that he was aware of himself, he was cold. He wanted the promised tea rather badly.

"I’ll be ok. But that tea really sounds good."

"What the hell were you thinking, kid? You should have dropped that bell after two hours."

Harry flushed a bit but replied with some spirit, "I practice mixed martial arts. I was using some meditation techniques to help me stay still. Um ... they worked better than I expected. I didn’t really feel cold or get a cramp, until that man said I was cold. Now I’m freezing. I want my tea."

Gary laughed a bit. "Feisty little thing, ain’t ya?" He shouldered through the door to the lounge. "Here! Robe, tea, hot water bottle. He’s been on the floor too long." People scurried to bring the things.

One man scooped up a robe and helped Harry into it as Gary put him on his feet. He didn’t stay on them long. He was bustled onto a couch before he could get balanced. Another of the men brought a light blanket and draped it over his legs, a mug of tea was thrust into his hands and Frankie summoned.

It didn’t take long for Frankie to sort out what had happened and have a few sharp words with the handler who’d glanced at the chart and crossed lines. It wouldn’t happen again. Then he went to see Harry.

"Harry, pet, I’m so sorry. Your first day and something gets screwed up. Do you need to see the medic? I’ll send for him right now."

Harry just smiled gently at Frankie. "No, I’m fine. A little cold, a cramp in one thigh. Nothing I can’t deal with."

Before Frankie could say a word, one of the off duty dancers spoke up. "Nothing you can’t deal with? But why should you have too, I’d like to know. We take care of each other here. You should have dropped your bell."

Harry just shrugged. "I really did lose track of time. Besides, I don’t want to be any trouble."

"You’ll be more trouble if you cripple yourself. Silly boy. Now, do you need anything? If you do, just ask. I’ll be back in a few." Frankie just nodded to the chief handler. "See that he has what he needs." He smiled around at the dancers and back room boys. "You guys see if you can’t talk some sense to him. He doesn’t know how to ask for stuff." He patted Harry on the foot and left.

Harry had to bow his head under the storm of fussing and lecturing that descended on him from all sides. Everyone seemed to think that he needed to take more care of himself. He relaxed and thought about that for a while.

.

Draco came down to supper with a scowl on his face. He was glad to be away from Hogwarts for the week end but he wasn’t sure how his father had managed it. So he was cross. He hated being out of the loop.

Lucius smiled smugly at his only son and waited patiently for the minor explosion which came with the first course.

"Father, not that I’m complaining, but how did you manage? I can’t stand it. The suspense is killing me. Pansy actually thanked me. Bitch."

"I managed to get the Board of Governors to revoke the new Hogwarts Rules of Deportment, written in 1686, and revert to an older set of rules. They allow any young person to return home for a Hogsmead weekend, instead of going to Hogsmead. You may congratulate me."

Draco grinned, this was proof that Lucius was recovering his influence. "That’s great. I do so like being able to come home. And it shows that we haven’t lost our influence completely."

"Exactly, a word dropped here and there, in complete confidence, of course, works wonders. Especially if it’s accompanied by a suitable gift, don’t you know."

Draco smirked into his chicken. "Oh, I do, I do. My compliments again."

They ate, talking quietly of Draco’s school work, Lucius’ efforts to regain his influence, and Narcissa’s rather annoying retreat to the Isle des Frazies. Finally, near the end of the last course, Draco asked how the search for Harry was going.

"Not well, I’m afraid. Not well at all. I don’t believe the boy. He hasn’t used a single traceable spell since he apparated."

Draco frowned slightly. "What difference does that make? I’ve never understood why Dumbledore has Severus tramping all over London, searching for Harry. A really good Find Me ought to turn up something, shouldn’t it?"

"Only if Harry has been using magic. A Find Me targets magical signatures, the vibrations, if you will, that are created when someone uses a spell. Everyone has a different signature. But it seems that our Harry is either very smart or very much afraid that he’ll be found by those vibrations. He hasn’t used anything stronger than some cleaning charms or something similar and that’s only speculation on my part. No traces to zero in on, so Severus has to literally stumble onto the boy. He must be tearing his hair out. You know how much he hates being cold."

Draco nodded, his god-father truly hated the cold. "I wonder why? It’s very strange, the dungeons are chilly, you know."

Lucius sighed, "Cruciatus. It damages the nerves and makes some people more susceptible to cold, or heat. Severus and I both reacted by becoming cold sensitive. And only his office is chilly, to protect the books and potions ingredients. His quarters are quit warm."

"Oh, I see." And Draco did see, a lot more than his father knew.

.

Harry was surprised to find that everyone who’d fussed at him also did their best to see that he was warm and comfortable. He reassured them all and leaned back against the lounge, sleepy and content.

It was closing time when Frankie came to find him.

"Harry, time to go home. Come on, I’ll help you get dressed."

Harry rubbed his eyes carefully, his contacts made vigorous rubbing painful. "I’m awake. I was just ... resting my eyes. They dried out. Do you see my drops anywhere?"

Frankie looked around but didn’t see the small dropper bottle. A handler passed him a single use pack, saying, "Here, this one’s oked for all the guys."

Harry took the twist top container and opened it. The drops eased the dryness and he blinked a few times. "Better." He tried to swing his legs off the lounge but realized that he was tangled in the blanket. "Shit! Um ... a little help? I’m all tangled up." Frankie quickly disentangled Harry and helped him up.

"Can you stand? Where does it hurt?"

"I can stand fine, thank you. It doesn’t hurt anywhere, I was just all tangled up and couldn’t get loose by myself. Thanks." Harry sat back down, this time on a small stool, and started pulling off the thick socks he’d been given. He stood up again in nothing but his y-fronts and accepted the jeans Frankie handed him.

He dressed quickly, thanked the men who’d taken care of him and told Frankie he was ready to go.

Frankie led him out the front door, picking Johnny up in front of the coat check. Harry wondered at their silence but let them alone. They’d talk when they were ready. He’d always hated Dumbledore’s insistence that he talk whether he was ready or not.

They walked a block in silence then Johnny spoke. "Harry?" Harry just gave an enquiring grunt. "I’m very sorry about what happened. I checked and that stupid prat, Henderson, just put up initials. No one realized until it was too late that you’re Harry Potter and the other guy is Hank Peterson. Your handler came down with the flu about an hour into the shift so he turned you over to another guy. It was a complete balls up from start to finish. I’m going to have some serious words with all the handlers, every one of them thought someone else was taking you. No excuses, just an explanation. If you never want to do furniture again, I’ll understand. And Harry? If you don’t like it, say so. We never want you to do something you don’t like, just because you think we want you to. We don’t, understand?"

Harry smiled into the darkness. He really did understand. These men really cared about him and wanted only the best for him. Unlike some people he could name, who wanted him as a tool, rather than as a person. He had been thinking hard about some things and coming to conclusions he didn’t much like.

He took his time about replying. "Yeah, I understand. I’d like to think about being furniture a bit more. I know Paul needs to get off his knees, and that really didn’t come out right." Harry had to wait a bit until Frankie and Johnny managed to quit laughing. "Pratts. Couldn’t you find something else for him to do? He’s young enough that he should be able to dance. What’s wrong with his knees?"

Johnny sighed. "We’re not sure. I’m afraid it’s arthritis, the symptoms are all there. He used to play football, so they’re a bit messed up. He can walk and dance, but kneeling on them for any length of time, hurts him. We’re going to have to find something for him to do, he’s the sole support of his Mum. It’s worrying. I was hoping you and he could exchange places. But ... if you can’t, you can’t. I respect that."

Harry nodded. "And I’m more grateful than you can ever know. I ... let me think about things. I’m sure I can figure out something. We could sit down tomorrow and brain storm it. If that’s ok with you two. It’s your shop, after all’s said and done."

Frankie poked Johnny in the side to shut him up before he told Harry that they could deal with it. He realized that Harry needed to help them find a solution.

"Well, ok. But I’m not getting up at the crack of dawn like you do. If you get up early, take your jog and do your exercises ... feel free to use the stage at the club. Just don’t wake us up. OK?"

Harry just laughed. "Ok. I know what you two are going to do. Have fun."

Frankie and Johnny both laughed softly, Harry was so accepting of their life style it was easy to forget how young he really was.

.

Potions Professor Severus Snape was in a temper. He’d thought Neville Longbottom was the worst brewer he’d ever seen but a third year had managed to make Spot Removing Cream blow up. The repairs had taken most of an evening and now Dumbledore was insisting that he go out to search for Potter.

"Headmaster, I don’t think it’s ever going to do any good. I don’t know where to search. He’s not using powerful enough spells to ‘call’ to me. And I’m tired. Really, do you think I’m overlooking that repellent brat on purpose? I assure you, I’m not."

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes fretfully. "I’m sorry, my boy, I know you’re trying. I just feel so helpless. We have to find Harry. He’s the only hope of the Wizarding World and, if we lose control of him, we’ll be in a great deal of trouble."

Snape frowned, he didn’t like the sound of that at all. Dumbledore’s illusion of a grandfatherly old headmaster was exactly that. He was as calculating as they came, as Severus was well aware. He wasn’t unnecessarily cruel but he considered everything in light of the welfare of the greatest number and wasn’t above using every tool available. Obviously he thought of both Severus and Harry as tools, very valuable one’s but still tools.

"I’ll see what I can do at another time. I’m afraid I’ve got the shakes too badly to do much tonight. I’m going back to my quarters and take a nerve repairing potion and get some sleep. Good night." The last was said with some finality and the firm click of the door impressed Dumbledore, again, with Snape’s self control, any other man would have slammed it off it’s hinges.

"Good night." Dumbledore settled himself in his chair to worry and plan. Not that it was going to do him much good unless they found Harry.

.

Harry woke, did his meditation, jogged to the club and did his kata on the stage. He jogged back to the apartment in time to eat breakfast with Frankie and Johnny. They spent some time discussing what to do about Paul. Harry was of the opinion that Paul should be allowed to try dancing, tattoo not withstanding. Johnny agreed with Harry, as long as Paul could find a way to hide the tattoo. Frankie didn’t really care one way or the other. They decided to leave it up to the customers. Paul would be allowed to dance that night, the amount of applause and tips would determine whether he would dance again or not.

Harry was delighted, even though it meant he was a table again. He decided to give the living furniture thing a proper trial and he didn’t think one messed up night was it.

Johnny was pleased that Harry was willing to give it another night, Frankie was a bit worried that Harry was only doing it because he was afraid they’d send him away if he didn’t. He decided to have a little talk with him so he followed him into his bedroom.

"Harry?"

Harry laid his book aside and smiled, he knew exactly what Frankie wanted, that was why he hadn’t bothered to start reading.

"Yeah, Frankie, what is it? As if I can’t guess."

"Are you sure you want to continue? I don’t want you to do it because you’re afraid to be sent away."

"I’m not. I ... you taught me that friends don’t do stuff like that. It’s blackmail, right? And that’s not something people who care do. Right? So, no, I’m not afraid you’ll send me way. I’ll do it because I want to give the job a fair chance. But ... um... I don’t think I want to work in the back rooms. The idea of being that helpless gives me a ... creepy feeling. Sorry, but it does."

Frankie gave Harry a proud look. "That’s good. That you feel safe enough to be up front with us. I’ll admit that I’m a bit disappointed. I think you’d be glorious. But I do realize that you might have a great deal of trouble with the bondage. So ... if you can’t, you can’t. I won’t pressure you. If you change your mind, let us know. The money is really good. Tips are fantastic. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. Next week, we’ll have your income stabilized enough that we need to have a talk about you starting to pull your weight in the household. You’re doing your fair share of the chores and a bit more. We’ll see where we stand with the finances, ok?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. I don’t mind doing extra chores to make up for my lack of money, but I’d feel better if I could pay at least my share of the utilities. Let me know what’s what and I’ll pony up." Harry submitted to Frankie’s hug and hugged him back unself-consciously. "Now, scoot. I’ve got to revise most of this book to get back on schedule, not that anyone will know except me."

Frankie smiled and left, closing the door quietly behind him. He really regretted that Harry didn’t feel that he could work in the highest paying part of the club, but he wasn’t about to push Harry to do something he didn’t feel right about. That wasn’t what friends did.

Harry returned to his book but didn’t get more than two pages read before Johnny knocked on the door to tell him that Dobby was there. Harry got up to greet him.

"Dobby, how are you?" Harry motioned for the elf to take the desk chair while he sat on the bed.

"Very well. I is glad to see Harry Potter Sir."

"What have you been doing? I expected to see you at the dojo." Harry sighed as he relaxed.

"Is you ok? Dobby knows dojo is closed. Why would Dobby be going there?"

Harry shrugged. He had no idea how Dobby knew most of what he knew but he didn’t intend to worry much about it, house-elves were a law unto themselves, asking questions usually led to frustration.

"Don’t know how you know the things you do. I never thought about it one way or the other. I figured you’d go there then look for me. Never mind."

Dobby just sat calmly through all this then announced that he’d found out how the Ministry tracked wands.

"The spell focuses on the vibrations that wands get when magic is cast. That is how they traces you. The major spells gets keyed to the alarm at the Ministry. If you doesn’t cast spells, you can’t get tracked. Dobby is thinking that Master Harry Potter Sir is very wise not to work very much wizarding magic. Anyone who knows him can track him if he puts out enough vibrations. Like a smell on the air Dobby thinks. Elf magic can’t be traced like that. You must only use elf magic from now on. Yes?"

Harry thought carefully. What Dobby said made sense. "Yeah, you’re right. I’ll have to rely on elf magic for everything I do from now on. I don’t want to take a chance on being tracked down and sent back to the Dursleys. They’ll kill me for sure. And I really want to learn that blasting hex you used on Malfoy that time. Right after I freed you?"

Dobby looked blank. "Dobby remembers the day he was freed by wonderful Master Harry Potter. But he does not remember any blasting hex. Elfses does not know hexes or curses. All elfses are forbidden to use any such thing. The punishment would be so severe that even an elf might not survive it."

Harry sighed and rubbed his face, the abuses elves suffered put the abuses the Dursleys thought up to shame. "Well, I don’t know what it was, but you used it to throw Malfoy into a wall. Remember?"

Dobby grinned. "Oh, that! It was just a charm to move furniture."

Harry’s mouth fell open and he just sat, stunned. "Oh, only a furniture moving charm?"

"Yes. Dobby used it the other day to move the bookcase for Harry Potter Sir."

Harry just started to laugh, he laughed until tears trickled down his face. Dobby blinked at him, puzzled for a moment. Harry’s stammered, "Malfoy...moving charm. Oh, my goodness." finally got to him. His squeaking giggles made Harry laugh even harder.

.

Ron finally managed to meet up with Hermione, owling had finally worn poor Pig completely out and the Weasley family owl Errol was just too old to take messages. Ron had coaxed  Hermione into sneaking into the kitchens. She’d accepted, so they were now seated at a small table in one corner.

"Ron, do you have any idea where Harry could have gone? Any at all?"

Ron nibbled on a chicken leg, a sure sign that he was very worried, he usually tore into his food like he was starving. He chewed for a bit then sighed.

"I don’t have a clue. One time he was telling me about runaways, Muggles don’t take very good care of their children, if you ask me. Anyway, runaways all seem to live on the streets and have to have sex with strangers to survive. Harry would never do that, would he?"

Hermione sighed. "I don’t know. I think Harry will do whatever he has to to survive. But having sex with just any one is so dangerous. I ... it really scares me. I’ve tried to find a Find Me spell that’ll find him but you have to know the person’s magical signature. I didn’t even know that people had one. I don’t know what Harry’s is like. Or even how to find it out."

Ron bit at his lip. "I don’t like it. Malfoy gave me a Wizard’s Oath that he meant Harry no harm. He won’t violate that, even if he could. He’s much too proud. Wanker. And I don’t know Harry’s signature either. We’re too young to know the spells. Bet Snape, Dumbledore and, maybe, Malfoy know it though."

Hermione nodded. She was the smartest witch of her generation but she was still only sixteen. Her resources were limited by her age. "I bet. But, why couldn’t Harry go to Gringotts and just get some money. He’s got pots and pots of gold there."

Ron made a rude noise. "Yeah, like the Goblins are going to just hand money over to an under-age runaway. They’d turn him over to Dumbledore or just send him right back to those Muggles. He’s not emancipated, see? And, as far as I know, he doesn’t have a guardian." Ron got a funny look on his face. "I wonder. Malfoy ... he’s ... well, I just got a really creepy idea. Never mind. Potato salad?"

Hermione took the offered salad and wondered briefly what Ron had been going on about. She dismissed the thought and turned her attention to her food and Ron.

.

Harry managed to endure one more night as a table, but he knew it wasn’t for him. His meditation helped him through the two hour shift but he felt like he was suffocating nevertheless. He let the handler pick him up and unfasten the chains so he could walk. When he got to the back he was handed a robe, socks and tea. He’d change out of the last of the outfit as soon as he was warm again.

Between the tea and the robe, it didn’t take him long to warm up. When he stood to change his clothing, one of the handlers helped him off with the tight shorts. He gave Harry a different pair of shorts and a barrel jacket.

"Johnny said to just wander around the club. Smile at the customers, smooze a bit. If you’re not going to work the back, you’ll need to find a few men to ... um ... pay for your time."

Harry gave the man a startled look. "Pay for my time? Like ..."

"Like lap dances, or just sitting and gazing at them with a worshipful look on your face as they tell you their troubles. And, if you become a dancer, which I think you will, you’ll have some men who’ll stick money in your shorts just so they can touch that little bit of you."

Harry gave the man a shocked look. "Touch me? Not ... I don’t think I like that."

"No touching anything but the side of your shorts. They stick money in them. Or your g-string. But no touching much more." He realized that Harry wasn’t too sure about that so he suggested that Harry go see. "You watched the last set a couple of days ago. Frankie and Johnny don’t let anyone touch them. But some dancers don’t mind. Other’s, the customers throw the tips on stage. It’s up to you. If you don’t want to be touched, that’s up to you. Why don’t you go down and watch for a while? See what happens and what you’re comfortable with."

Harry shrugged, it didn’t matter much to him. He was done for the night so he decided to do what the man suggested, it couldn’t hurt.

He slid into the back of the stage this time, keeping quiet so that he wouldn’t be heard in the audience. Not that it made much difference, the audience was yelling and cheering the dancer on stage. The music was fairly loud too.

Harry watched the dancer and realized that it was Paul. He was very good and the audience showed their appreciation by showering the stage with notes. Paul finished his dance and slipped between the halves of the curtain.

"Harry! How’s it hangin’? Look at all the notes. And I’m supposed to pick them all up myself. But I’m not used to this and I’m sweating and panting a bit. The makeup is coming off that damn tattoo and I can’t go back on stage looking like this. What am I going to do?"

Harry glanced at Paul’s thigh, the make up had indeed smeared off enough that anyone who knew what to look for would see it plainly. "Well, why don’t I go out and collect it? I can’t dance but who’s going to complain if I just walk out and pick up stuff."

"I don’t know. All I know is that no one but dancers are supposed to be on stage. Um ..." Paul frowned for a moment, glancing uneasily at the curtain, which was about to go back up. He brightened and grinned. "I know! Why don’t you just sexy crawl out there and pick it up. That’ll cover everything, including the fact that you’re a lock boy. I’ll give you 5%"

Harry didn’t need the money but he knew that Paul needed to get his tips off the stage so that the next dancer could go on. He agreed to do it if it was ok with the MC.

It was. So Harry found himself crawling onto the stage, gathering money in both hands as he crawled across the stage, thinking ‘cat’ thoughts and hoping he wasn’t making a fool of himself.

Evidently he wasn’t as some men tried to touch him to tuck money into his shorts. He let them touch, as long as they didn’t get too personal. No one did and he managed to make his way around the footlights without embarrassing himself. He got off the stage and handed Paul the money he’d picked up from the floor. He also tried to give Paul the money that had been tucked into his shorts. Paul refused that with a grin. "No way! That’s yours, you earned it fair and square. Go show it to Frankie, he’ll be beside himself. No one has ever gotten tips for picking up money before. Scoot! Shoo!" Paul flapped one hand at Harry to send him on his way.

.

"Frankie? Look!" Harry handed Frankie the money he’d gotten. "I got that from ... crawling for Paul’s tips. Is it good? I mean, a lot?"

Frankie took the money and counted while Harry explained what had happened. "That was ok, wasn’t it? I don’t want to get Paul into trouble or anything, but his tattoo was showing, he’d sweated the makeup off." Harry ran a hand through his hair. It was still growing out and had nearly reached his shoulders.

"Quit fiddling with that! You need a trim again. Your fringe is in your eyes. And ... this is very respectable for just a pick up crawl. Most guys get five pounds at most. There’s fifteen pound here. Great job. How did your shift go?"

Harry sighed. "I don’t like it. I can do it if you need a fill in, but I don’t want to do it full time. I’d rather tend bar. I know you had high hopes for me but ... yuck. Please don’t ask me to do it full time."

Frankie didn’t bother to hide his disappointment, that wasn’t how it worked in his world. "Well, I’m sorry you don’t like it. Too bad, the money is so good. But if you don’t, you don’t. Bar tending doesn’t pay as well by half. But, earning this much money just for a crawl? You’ll make a killer dancer. I can work you up a routine over the week. You can practice it along with your kata. You want to try?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. And, if Paul is willing, I can teach him to juggle bottles so he can tend bar too. That way we’re covered better incase of sickness or someone quitting. What do you think?"

"Great idea. And we’ll know if Paul is going to work out as a dancer in about an hour. The MC will count his tips and his opinion of the level of applause is the deciding factor. Now, scoot. Go play in traffic or something."

Harry laughed at that and left to go bother Waldo for a while. He’d find out whether Paul made it when they walked home.

.

"Well, how did Paul do? I really hope he gets to dance, he wants to so badly."

Johnny just looked at Frankie. Harry’s big heart and generous spirit never failed to please them both.

"You do, huh? Even if it puts you tending bar and watching the door?"

"Sure. He needs it much more than I do. He’s got his Mum to look after, doesn’t he?" Harry skipped backwards, facing his two friends.

"That’s so. And he did make it, but we lost another of the dancers. He fell at home and wrenched his knee something awful. He’s out for at least six months. So ... looks like you both made it. But Waldo says that you’re only to get the second performance because he needs you at the bar too much. So you’ll be doing your bottle juggling for the first part of the evening and dancing the second set. How’s that?"

Harry did a little jig, making Frankie wince. "That’s great. That way I don’t put Waldo out any. He really does need me to do the prep for him and the early rush is always a bunch of people wanting what Waldo calls froo-froo drinks. I put on a show and they spend time watching me. It gives Waldo, and me, time to get the drinks out. They’re too busy watching me to get impatient. And you have to count my tips soon. The jar is getting really full."

Johnny just laughed. "Didn’t anyone tell you that you’re supposed to bring one of us the jar on Sunday?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Waldo just said that they had to be counted for taxes. No one told me when. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow?"

"Ok. I’m interested to see how much is there."

Frankie sighed, they were going to take forever to get to sleep. Harry was excited. Johnny was too. Frankie had to admit that he was just as excited as they were.

"Cocoa is definitely in order. I’m so excited about Harry’s success that I’ll never get to sleep."

Harry made the cocoa, but helped himself to a drop of Dreamless Sleep before slipping between his sheets. He was much too excited to sleep without it.
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